Dear Harpeth Hills:

Lately I have been walking quite a bit through the empty church building. Around the Auditorium, up on the 3rd Floor, past the bucket chairs of the Nursery, down the children’s hallway and past the indoor playground, through the Gym and Community Room, and a final swing through the youth wing.

It is depressing.

I could lie—something preachers are not supposed to do—and go on and on about how excited I am that some are meeting again on Sunday mornings and evenings. It is nice, don’t get me wrong. Really nice. But it is not the same.

I miss seeing little ones in their classes on Sunday mornings, a full Auditorium and Gym filled with worshipers, folks eating on Wednesday nights, and seeing my grandchildren in their Preschool classes during the week. Shoot, I even miss in-person, two-hour ministers’ meetings on Tuesday mornings.

There is an ache in my heart.

The next time I take a tour through the deserted building, I am going to belt out these words. Sing it with me. You can even cry a little as you sing it.

My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. I dare not trust the sweetest frame but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

‘Till that day when we all can sing it again. Together.

I love you.

Chris Smith